


Doughnut Murderer

by CelestialVoid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Meetings, Florist Stiles Stilinski, Florists, M/M, Meet-Cute, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 13:05:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19853785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: Stiles is having the worst day, but it all goes to heck when he bumps into a guy outside of a café.





	Doughnut Murderer

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Убийца пончиков](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21535702) by [Koma_ami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koma_ami/pseuds/Koma_ami)



> For Z, Happy birthday! ❤

What’s worse than a single guy putting together numerous table setters, floral arrangements, and bouquets for a wedding? A single guy putting together numerous table setters, arrangements, and bouquets for their ex’s wedding.

It was a bitter reminder of everything he didn’t have. And with every sprig of angel’s breath that he put in a bouquet or every white rose he fitted into the floral arrangements, Stiles felt his heart sink further.

He was happy for her, he really was, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something.

He was seconds away from bursting into tears when Scott told him he could have his break. He untied his apron and set it down on the bench before leaving the store.

He stepped out onto the street, letting the fresh air wash over him. He drew in a deep breath, trying to calm himself as he made his way down the street to the café on the corner.

The girl behind the counter greeted him with a bright smile. “The usual?”

“Yes, thanks,” Stiles replied, pulling out his wallet and paying for the coffee and doughnut.

He sat down at a table by the window as he sipped at his coffee, scrolling through his phone and answering his dad’s messages.

He let time slip by until his break was nearly over. He slid his phone back into his pocket and picked up his doughnut and carried the dishes back to the counter, thanking the girl behind the counter before heading out of the café.

He had only just stepped out of the door when a man bumped into him, knocking the doughnut from his hand.

“I’m so sorry,” the man apologised, catching Stiles before the young man toppled backwards. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Stiles froze, staring down at the crushed doughnut crumbs that covered the sidewalk. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision into streaks of colour and light.

It was the last straw.

“Doughnut murderer!” he shouted at the man, wrenching his arm free of the man’s hold and running down the street, back to the florist.

He sprinted into the store and into the back room, tears streaming down his face. He collapsed in a corner of the room, pressing his back against the wall.

“Stiles,” Scott chased after him, his eyes wide with worry. “Stiles, what’s wrong?”

Stiles drew in a measured breath, trying to stop himself from crying as he said, “I dropped my doughnut and I just called a random guy a doughnut murderer.”

Scott looked bewildered.

“I know, it’s not the most intelligent thing I’ve ever said. I’m just… having a bad day,” Stiles admitted “And now I feel like an asshat for shouting at some guy on the street because he bumped into me.”

“Is this about the wedding?” Scott asked.

“Kind of,” Stiles admitted. “I mean, I’m happy for her and I’m glad that she trusts us with the arrangements—and the pay’s good for the business—but it’s just one big screaming reminder that I’m alone.”

“Stiles,” Scott started slowly, his voice quiet and soft.

He was interrupted as the bell that sat on the front counter chimed.

“Hang on,” Scott said, hurrying back through the door into the store to serve the customer.

Stiles pulled his knees up to his chest, drawing in even breaths to calm himself down.

“Uh, Stiles?” Scott’s quiet voice called from the doorway. “The customer would like to talk to you.”

“Me?” Stiles asked, stunned. He pushed himself to his feet, using the sleeve of his flannel shirt to wipe away the tears that streaked his face. He stepped out to the front of the store and looked at the young man standing in front of the counter.

He was dressed in a grey Henley and a worn leather jacket. He was handsome, with thick black hair and a soft beard that cast a shadow across his jaw. His wide-set eyes were pale, the colour of his irises shifted in the light; from hazel to green, to a shade of light blue – clear, bright and focused. A kind smile turned up the corners of his mouth as he met Stiles’ gaze.

Stiles stepped over to the counter, his brow furrowed for a second before he realised the man was holding a box in his hands—white with the logo of the café down the road stamped on it.

“Hello,” Stiles started slowly. “Can I help you?”

“These are for you,” the young man said, holding the box out to Stiles. “I’m sorry I, uh—murdered your doughnut.”

Stiles couldn’t help himself, he burst into laughter.

It took him a moment to compose himself.

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles apologised, a smile lighting up his face. “I’ve been having a bad day and I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“In all honesty, I’ve been having a bad day too,” the man admitted. “But when I say you come out of the café, I kind of got distracted by how pretty you were. That’s why I ran into you. I’m sorry.”

Stiles felt a soft blush colour his cheeks, a smile creeping onto his face.

The silence drew out a second longer than the man had hoped. He shifted nervously, setting the box down on the counter before clearing his throat. “Well, I, uh… I’d better get going.”

He began to back up towards the door, his head hung as he tried to hide the embarrassment on his face.

“I think you’re pretty too,” Stiles called after him.

The man stopped, turning back slightly.

Stiles reached into the bucket of flowers that sat by the counter, gathering a bunch of peonies and angel’s breath. He wrapped them and tied it off with a ribbon before carrying it over to the young man.

The man reached into his pocket.

“No charge,” Stiles said.

The man looked back at him, his cheeks coloured with a bashful blush as he took the bouquet with a quiet ‘thank you’.

Stiles held out his hand to the man.

“I’m Stiles,” he introduced himself.

The man returned the handshake, a smile playing across his lips. “Derek.”

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


End file.
